[ No matter how many times he has fed himself to Liem, he is always urged to leave. He cannot parse why, save for that he thinks the man is so humiliated by his needs that he must judge himself, punish himself, when the god who gives himself up to him has no desire to shame him. Liem is not a parasite. He is a man who seeks to care for others, while spurning care that comes his way; it is a sentiment Set could comprehend, if he were not so lost to the needs of his own body and heart. If such vulnerabilities had not been crushed out of him, by the efforts of others.

All he can do now, is pretend he is strong. To be strong enough for others, in their times of need. ]

Come here.

[ And finally, he slides his hand down the length of Liem's torso, to the hook of his waist, to draw the priest into his own side. To splay his warm hand across his ribs and hold Liem close to him, as he urges him to sit, to settle upon the floor of the Church and speak. ]

What can I do for you, to help you in this time of need? Name it, Liem. And do not hide it from me. I know the need you find most shameful, and I hold no distaste for it. In my own weakness, I must know yours. Others's. For I cannot be strong for myself. And I know you cannot, either. 'Alone' is a terrible weight.

[ And when Set says it, it is poignant. Acute. For the god of the desert, the god of war, is the loneliest of all the gods. ]